My Faithful Dog
by Believe4Ever
Summary: "Tell me." The man's voice was menacing and icy, just as Jim had remembered it. Moriarty tilted his head and finally murmured in an equally cold voice, "It's been a long time. Hasn't it, my faithful dog?" *Includes Sebastian Moran. Rated T to be safe. Implied MorMor*


James Moriarty walked casually down the corridor. His hand brushed against his gun every so often. Guns. What pleasant devices they were. They could cause so much pain and torture so many people and, in the end, they're always used to kill. They're a device that allowed a five year old girl the opportunity to be as psychotic as himself if she could just point it at her mommy and pull the trigger.

A low laugh came from the psychopath's throat as he thought of the scene. It made him take out his own gun and run his fingers along the cold sides, feeling the weight in his hands. It was amazing how the weight of death could be no more than a handgun or a knife. One would think that it would weigh far more but something as simple as a string could be used to kill another so death could weigh virtually nothing.

Finally he came to the end of the hall and found the metal door that separated him from his captive. He clicked off the safety of his gun as he opened the door.

The room was dark with very little light since the single light bulb that hung from the low ceiling had burned out long ago. In the corner there were three eyehooks jutting out from the wall, one of them midway up the wall and the other two spread apart between the two adjoined walls.

He saw a figure crouched in the same corner, nearly covered by shadows, just where he had left it. The figure's arms were bound together in the back, as well as its ankles. Though Jim couldn't see it, he knew that there was a blindfold over its eyes as well.

"Who are you," a deep voice growled. It was the figure. He was fairly tall, muscular, and strong. Key word being 'was'. Now he was still tall as he had been, and muscular, but he had grown thin and his strength wasn't as it used to be. He hadn't even moved from the corner since his last urination break. "Why are you keeping me here."

Jim glanced over to find that the bread he had supplied had been devoured but the murky water left untouched. Which made sense. It was hard to drink from a cup when your hands were bound behind your back. A tiny grin entered Moriarty's face though he knew his captive wouldn't be able to see it.

"Answer me!" the man barked, shifting a little.

Jim noticed the scar on the man's bare chest as it appeared in the subtle light. It was a small carving of an 'M' in the right pectoral muscle. The scar was dark red as if whatever had made the mark had dug deep into his flesh.

"You've kept me here for a week," he continued, forcing his body to sit up. His rough blonde hair was matted and dirty, full of dust and filth. There was a scar running down his cheek that Jim knew would lead up to his eye, though it couldn't be seen because of the blindfold. "Just tell me what you want!"

Moriarty walked closer, being sure to be slow and let his footsteps echo in the tiny room. Most would cower at the sound of an unknown captor drawing close but he only lifted his head as if he knew that Jim was towering over him. Another grin found its way onto the psychopath's lips. He crouched down, resting the gun on his knee. The captive almost seemed to be able to hear his movements and his head followed, so they were now eyelevel.

Jim grabbed the man's arms and unbound the rope work in an instant but before the captive could do anything to harm him; the psychopath brought them forward, bound them once more, and strung them through the eyehook so they hung uselessly above his head. He did the same with his feet, though he separated them to the other two hooks so his legs were spread apart and unable to hurt him if he tried.

"Tell me." The man's voice was menacing and icy, just as Jim had remembered it.

Moriarty tilted his head and finally murmured in an equally cold voice, "It's been a long time. Hasn't it, my faithful dog?"

The captive froze and Moriarty saw his body go stiff. "Jim . . .?"

"That's right." The psychopath slid the blindfold off the man's head and he blinked, his eyes trying to adjust. They finally focused on Jim's face. "Sebastian."

"I—I see you found me."

"You thought I wouldn't?" He leaned in close so their noses were practically touching. Sebastian Moran saw the anger and insanity in Moriarty's eyes that he had since forgotten about except when they plagued his night terrors.

Moran said nothing in response. He wanted to turn away from his old boss but found that he couldn't even avert his gaze from those dark, hypnotizing eyes.

"I believed you to be dead," Jim hissed, turning his head as if he was trying to memorize Sebastian's face from all angles. "I thought you had been killed."

"Obviously I wasn't."

"No, you weren't. But you couldn't bother to tell me. Couldn't bother to come back to little old Jimmy."

"Jim—"

Moriarty's hand swiped out, the butt of the gun smashing against the side of Sebastian's face. The sniper's head snapped to the side and hung. He gave a cough and a little bit of blood spit onto the ground.

"I forgot how strong you could be when you're angry," he whispered, slowly raising his head back up.

"I've had to get along without you, Sebastian. Do you know how hard it is?"

The sniper blinked and looked at Jim with surprise. "Really? It was hard for you?"

"Of course. It's extremely hard to find a good sniper nowadays."

Sebastian breathed in like he was going to say something but then exhaled, giving a soft, "Oh . . ."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed. "You've upset me, Sebby. You've angered me."

"I can see."

"I don't think you can."

The psychopath's fingers traced down Moran's chest until they came to a stop on the scar. Sebastian closed his eyes and tried to fight the urge to wince. The scar no longer hurt, but for some reason it tingled and burned when Moriarty touched it.

"I assume you remember who gave this to you," Jim said in a low voice.

"Not a day goes by that I forget."

"Then you remember just how easily skin can be cut." Moriarty dug his fingernails into the area around the scar. "How flesh can be marred."

Sebastian closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. "What do you want, Jim?"

"I wanted to let you know that I still own you. That you are still my dog to be commanded and how I always find my pets when they run away." He stuck the pistol under Sebastian's jaw, digging it into his mylohyoid muscle. "And that when the dog does something bad it must be punished." Moran gulped, the gun shifting as he did so.

"If you want to kill me, just pull the trigger," the sniper hissed, staring into Moriarty's eyes.

The two of them stared at each other for a while, memories of their adventures going through both of their minds. When Jim first picked up Sebastian, when Sebastian had shot Jim's first enemy, the countless times they had stolen something or tricked someone else into stealing something for them. Moran was reminded of the time he had saved Moriarty's life, and how Jim still had no idea that he had done so.

Finally Moriarty gave his usual grin and brought the gun back away from Sebastian's chin. "I can't kill you, Sebastian. I still have work to do and good snipers are hard to come by. As well as loyal ones who will follow orders like a canine. I think I'll keep you around for a little while longer."

Jim set the gun down on the floor next to him and brought out a knife. He sliced Sebastian's limbs free and stood. "Come. We have much to discuss." He turned and proceeded to walk out of the dimly lit room and into the corridor.

Sebastian grabbed the handgun and rose to his feet, taking aim at Jim's back. He paused for a moment, finger tight on the trigger as he stared at his boss's back. His arms slowly brought the gun back down and a trace of a smile flashed across his face. He slipped the gun between his jeans' waistline and his back before proceeding to follow Jim.

* * *

**Comments are very much appreciated! I'd like to know if I portrayed their relationship well and if you would be interested in reading any more Seb/Jim adventures. Comments on if you enjoyed the story are welcome as well, ha-ha.**


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